Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Armenia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Whodini to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Subhumans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gang Starr,
AZ,
Black Bananas,
DJ Style,
Massinfluence,
The Black Dice,
Aloha Tigers,
Idris Muhammad,
Reuben Wilson,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Monolake,
Popol Vuh,
Infiniti,
The Slits,
Half Japanese,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Average White Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Moby Grape,
Eli Mardock,
The Skatalites,
a-ha,
Lalann,
The Kinks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Heaven 17,
Moss Icon,
Swans,
Nico,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Motions,
UT,
Absolute Body Control,
Sam Rivers,
Gichy Dan,
Fatback Band,
Black Pus,
Ken Boothe,
Bush Tetras,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Make Up,
Al Stewart,
The Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rekid,
Joy Division,
Davy DMX,
Clear Light,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Janne Schatter,
Cal Tjader,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.